


The Last Voyage

by darkspine10



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkspine10/pseuds/darkspine10
Summary: A tired traveller makes one last journey to bury his past





	The Last Voyage

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first real piece of Fan-fiction I've ever written, originally posted this on the Jedi Council Forums board back in 2017, but didn't get much of a response. Since then I've found this site, and am thinking about writing some more works in the future. So I'm reposting this here to test the water, so to speak.
> 
> I'm really after some constructive criticism mainly.

The waves crashed against the ship's bow as it cruised onward through the Sea of Ghosts. Stretched out on the starboard side, far on the horizon, laid the snow-covered glaciers of Northern Skyrim. The small cutter was sailing much further north than the usual merchant ships making the trip from Solitude to Dawnstar, and the Captain was happy of this. Few boats sailed in such frigid waters, which meant that their journey was mostly unobserved. A Nord of 60 years, the old seaman had a weathered face, and neat beard tucked into his belt. He had operated his cutter, The Jolly Sload, sailing the Etheric Ocean for most of his life. He rarely ventured such great distances these days, but his Passenger's payment would be well worth the time and effort. He might finally be able to buy a plot of land near Falkreath and settle down. Hearing the cutter's hatch creak open, the Captain turned his thoughts once again to his passenger. The Passenger was a rather grim fellow, and the captain was not looking forward to another conversation with the man. As the man climbed up from the galley, the Captain once again noticed the heavy scimitar hanging from his belt and inwardly prayed that his Passenger would not try to find a way to avoid paying for the trip.

Belyn Seloth stepped out onto the deck. The cold struck him once again, and the sea air caught in his throat, reminding him why he preferred land routes where possible. But this time his target had sought refuge across the sea, necessitating the hiring of an able sailor. Another potential witness. "Morning Dunmer", grunted the Captain. The man was obviously trying to avoid further conversation with him, so Seloth simply nodded and strolled to the prow. This is how the last few days had passed. Seloth would come up on deck, stare at the coast, and wonder how long it would be before sighting his destination. Though it was frigid exposed on the deck, Seloth preferred it to the suffocatingly narrow corridors below. As he well knew, better to be cold, than to be trapped. He thought once more of his target, the wealthy merchant, Dridryn Indalor. He remembered the exquisite golden robes, and the expensive finery draped around his neck. He remembered the splendid manor on the hill, high above the town of Ben Erai. And he remembered the slave pits, strewn out below it. Seloth had tried to save as many as he was able, but he could not forget the look on Khali's face, as she was dragged back to Indalor in chains. His targets in the past had been political opponents of his employers, or nobles standing in their way of greater profits. But this target was personal. Over his long years, he had decided that satisfying his own moral compass was a greater reward than any client's payment. A cough from the stern of the ship reached his ears, and he turned to receive the Captain's address. "We're turning into the Inner Sea now, Dunmer". Good. Seloth would finally be getting out of the cold, and closer to his final destination. He would finally be returning home, to the island of Vvardenfell.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vos stood high on the hill above the port. A small Velothi farming village, it was here that Indalor had retreated after the last attempt on his life. Stepping onto the dock, Seloth noted the various Telvanni ships clogging the river, and remembered that Indalor had powerful friends. No matter, they wouldn't be able to help him this time. Striding past the Varo tradehouse, he made for the centre of the village, to the Vos chapel. The Temple priests would know the details of every visitor to the small enclave. As he walked the streets, he passed the poor tradespeople and farmers. He caught many looks from them, and motioned to better conceal his dagger, secreted in his sleeve. Arriving at the chapel, Seloth smelled the odour of Ash Yams from within. The scent brought back memories of Temple studies from his childhood. Seloth had no love for the Temple, for they too were complicit in the enslavement of the so-called 'lesser' races. That they preached love and compassion made their condonement of such acts even more appalling. He opened the door, and adjusted his crimson eyes to the lowered light levels within. A priest in blue robes sat writing on a desk, covered with yellowing scrolls, across the room. "Ah, welcome, let me just get up!" He clumsily tried to rise without knocking all his work onto the chapel floor. Smiling, he walked quickly over to the door. "Sorry, how can I help you young sir, do you seek the guidance of the Three, or perhaps it is healing you desire. You have obviously been out in the wilds recently, let me guess, the Grazelands, oh no, the Ashlands?" Seloth was already tired of his eager tone, and cut straight to the point. "I'm here in Vos looking for a friend. Dridryn Indalor". Immediately, the priest's smile vanished. "Oh, he doesn't have any visitors I'm afrai-". Seloth cut in, "That's alright, I just want to know where he's staying." Seloth rested his hand on his sword, a curved scimitar commonly wielded in Hammerfell. The priest looked afraid, but swallowed and moved in close to whisper. "A small compound, to the north. You'll find him there. You won't get close though, it's surrounded with bodyguards, hunting hounds..." Seloth was already leaving the chapel before the young man had finished talking.

Crossing the open plains, Seloth felt exposed. There was no cover in the Grazeland, just endless tracts of ankle-high grass. Passing down the hill from Vos, Seloth observed the Telvanni fortress set up to the West. The old Imperial fortress had been consumed by the mushroom towers favoured by the Telvan mages. More and more were the Telvanni wizards expanding onto Vvardenfell, into lands previously set up as Temple reserves. He wondered when the Great Houses would eventually come in to conflict over this green land, and what would happen to the innocent farmers caught in the middle. Too often it was the common citizens who lost the most in these Inter-House wars, while the noble families simply sat and watched the lines on the map shift in their favour. It was the petty cruelty of such acts that motivated Seloth to action. But after tonight, nothing would again motivate him to anger. Not once he had made Khali's murderer pay. He stuck to the coast, reducing the angles of approach any potential attackers could use. Eventually, as he crested another grassy hill, he came into view of Indalor's compound. 4 towers surrounded the inner manor house, and bright torches shone from each one. A pair of stocky Orcs stood by the main gate, conversing with each other. Seloth knew that the main gate would be impossible to breach, so began scanning the walls for other flaws. A crack on the east wall looked large enough to act as a handhold, but Seloth would have to be quick to use it. Taking one of the cherry bombs stowed in his pouch and tossing it past the gate, Seloth laid into a crawl, and inched towards the wall. After 6 seconds, the desired effect rang out, as the bomb exploded, and the guard in the southeast tower turned towards the noise. Seizing the opportunity, Seloth ran up the wall as fast as he could, reaching out at the height of his ascension. Pulling himself up with the crack, he used his momentum to toss his body over the lip. Gripping the inner edge of the wall, Seloth checked on the tower guard. He was staring back out at the coast, as Seloth had anticipated. The guards on the gate probably thought it was just Guar or Kagouti. He was in.

Dropping down to the ground, Seloth perceived the lack of guards within. A common failure of men like Indalor, to assume that nothing could penetrate their defences. Jogging swiftly over to the manor, Seloth made for the rear, keeping an eye on the upper windows. His luck remained, as one was slightly ajar. Once inside, he took stock of the surroundings. A small alcove of a room, with Indigo carpets, patterned with Telvan crests, a small wooden table, with an incense burner placed lightly on top, and a small tetrahedral pillar in the centre of the room. He was in the household shrine to the gods. Treading lightly, he edged around narrow gap between the wall and the shrine. He gently opened the door to the landing and looked around. As he expected, there were no guards on this floor. Creeping out, Seloth tried the next door along. Just a storeroom. The next. A large bath sat in the corner. That left the room at the end of the hall. Seloth's heart raced as he pushed to door open. Lying on a massive four-poster bed was Dridryn Indalor, at last. Seloth looked down at the man, still dressed in lavish robes that likely cost more money than anyone in Vos owned. His stomach bulged out from them, and his scraggy beard still clung to his face. He could have ended his life there and then. But Seloth wanted Indalor to know his death was coming. He pulled the door closed just loudly enough to wake the slaver. "What, who's there! Captain!" Indalor reached for a lamp, but Seloth lit one by the door. "Hello Dridryn." Indalor sat up in his bed, and considered Seloth for a few seconds, before his eyes widened in recognition. "You! How did you get in here?" Indalor looked alarmed, and for a moment seemed to be about to call for help. But then Seloth spoke to him "I am here for justice. For all the people, whose lives you stole and made yours. For Khali." 

Indalor pondered these words, once again waiting before speaking. Then, to Seloth's surprise, he burst out laughing. "Oh, that's rich. Coming from you, a man with blood on his hands if ever there was one. How many people's lives did you steal, I wonder? And how many more indirectly? The turmoil you sowed, the conflicts you brewed. Did you never think that your action had consequences? Compared to you, I am practically an innocent". Seloth recoiled slightly at these words. He felt disgusted that this man was trying to unsettle him, to make him doubt his goal. But Seloth knew what he had to do. Indalor looked impatient, "Well, are you going to kill me then? Do you have the guts!?" Seloth replied, with one word, "Yes", and pulled the knife from his wrist and plunged it into the old man's heart.

Wandering back to the walls of Vos, Seloth felt no victory from his act the night before, so satisfaction. He had ended the life of Khali's killer, yes, and stopped him from ever capturing someone again. But Seloth knew all too well that there were plenty of other slavers ready to take his place. The vast slave pits of the Dres, the sky markets of Telvannis, and many independent 'merchants'. Seloth's mind was weighed down by these thoughts, and he began wondering where on Tamriel he could go to get away from it all.


End file.
